


Coffee Crisp Kiss

by VulpesVulpes713



Series: A Collection of Klance [13]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Based on a text post, Laith, M/M, and a craving, and lance is a pining (?) mess, coffee shop au?, he now has a crush, in which keith is a suave flirt, klance, sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 07:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15359697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpesVulpes713/pseuds/VulpesVulpes713
Summary: Based onthis text postLance is met with a bit of a surprise when his friend tries to grab a date from a hot guy. He doesn't mean to steal that date for himself, but in the end, it seemed he didn't really have a choice.





	Coffee Crisp Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long absence. It's a long story.

“-and then I told him if he was  _ that _ worried about the painting he shouldn’t have invited art majors to his party-”

 

“Hold on shut up!”

 

Nyma’s hand comes up in what Lance assumes is an attempt to cover his mouth, though her misjudgement of his height results in a smack to the shoulder instead. The slight sting it leaves behind has him grateful his face had been spared. 

 

“Fricken rude-” he starts, only mildly miffed at being interrupted, but Nyma isn’t the least bit concerned.

 

“There he is!” she hisses, ducking behind Lance and pointing in the direction of the campus coffee shop. He glances over with a sigh, already knowing who he’s about to see. Nyma, as Lance had come to learn after only a few weeks of shared group projects, wears her heart on her sleeve, and is unafraid of gossiping with total strangers over who she finds hot or not. He’d even begun writing a list of names just to keep up, and if he remembers correctly, her newest obsession should be-

 

_ Yup, there’s that mullet. _

 

“Dude,” Nyma’s red face is suddenly full of determination as she straightens her shoulders, pulling her hair over her shoulder self-consciously as her eyes meet Lance’s. “Should I go in there and ask him out?”

 

Lance shrugs, hiding his brief disbelief with the gesture. It’s one thing for Nyma to gossip about her crushes, and another altogether to act on them. He’s interested to see how this will play out, no matter how confused he is by her choices. 

 

So he smiles, nudging her towards the shop with a nod.

 

“Yeah sure, go for it!”

 

He expects Nyma to chicken out then, but she only shoots him a quick thumbs up before striding in the direction of the café. He makes a mental note to help her work on that power walk later, and shoves his hands in his pockets to ward against the slight chill in the air.

 

He’s happy for Nyma, really. Having the balls she has to go in there and ask out a complete stranger like that...he almost wishes he had the courage to do the same. 

 

Granted, he isn’t currently harbouring any crushes, and pretends that things would be different were that the case. 

 

_ I’m sure I’d do the same.  _

 

But then again, the long list of rejections from his past attempts make a convincing case otherwise. 

 

He elects to ignore those for now, deciding the autumn air is a tad too nippy to be standing around in when there’s a perfectly warm coffee shop only ten feet away. Besides, the allure of a hot beverage is difficult to reject. 

 

He spots Nyma sitting at a table near the back across from her man when he enters, smiling broadly and waving her hands around in what Lance knows to be a wild story about their psych professor. The guy is watching her, seemingly invested in her words, and Lance sighs in relief as he orders his drink.

 

_ Good. It looks to be going well. I was getting sick of giving her an opinion on every new guy she got feels for.  _

 

_ But I guess that’s what I get for telling her I’m bi. Typical.  _

 

He takes his drink from the barista, thanking her as he does, and turns to see if Nyma has popped the question yet. Only, Nyma isn’t looking at him.

 

The guy is. 

 

And more than looking, he’s... _ waving? Is he waving at me? _

 

Nyma looks over now, noticing the attention has been diverted elsewhere, and meets Lance’s eyes from across the room. She glances back and forth between them, confusion evident on her face as Lance slowly approaches. He doesn't think he has much of a choice at this point. 

 

The guy stands when Lance reaches their table, and before he can get so much as a ‘hello’ in, he’s wrapped up in a hug that has his grip on his coffee slipping. 

 

“Hey babe,” the stranger coos as he steps back slightly, “I was wondering when you would show up!” 

 

And then, as if the hug wasn’t enough, Lance is met with a pair of lips to his own: soft and tender and tasting faintly of coffee crisp. He freezes, hand tightening around his drink despite the heat of it as his mind goes utterly blank. 

 

_ What the fuuuu-! _

 

And then the lips disappear from his, and Lance struggles to inhale as they go to his ear, whispering delicately and sending unanticipated shivers down his back.

 

_ “Just go with it.” _

 

Again, he doesn’t think he has much of a choice at this point.

 

The guy-freaking  _ mullet haired kissy boy- _ then turns toward Nyma with a shy grin, sitting as his hand trails down Lance’s arm. Fingers entangle with his own and Lance is completely at a loss. 

 

“Sorry to cut you off like that,” the stranger, Nyma’s  _ crush _ , says to her. “What were you saying?” 

 

It’s so nonchalant. Comfortable.  _ Casual! _ It makes no sense and Lance’s brain is struggling. He can see that Nyma is very much in the same boat, staring up at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. He wants to convey to her that he has no clue what the hell just happened-is  _ currently happening- _ but his tongue won’t work.

 

All he can process is the sweetness of flavoured coffee left tingling his lips. 

 

“Oh uh,” Nyma starts, blinking her way back to reality as her cheeks darken. She stands, gathering up her bag and shooting Lance one last incredulous look. “Nevermind. I’ll talk to you later!” 

 

She leaves. 

 

Just, fricken  _ leaves him there alone with this guy who is still very much holding his hand!  _

 

_ Thanks Nyma! Thanks for that! _

 

But as soon as she’s out of sight the heat in his fingers disappears, and he gapes back at the stranger as their hands part ways. 

 

He watches as the guy flops back in his chair with a sigh, running fingers through his hair as he huffs out a laugh. 

 

“I am  _ so _ sorry about that,” he drawls, though the humour in his voice tells a different story. “She was about to ask me out and I just  _ did not _ want to go through that process.” 

 

Lance’s voice remembers how to work then, and he tucks his arms close to his sides as he struggles to meet the eyes of the stranger.

 

_ Pretty eyes,  _ he thinks to himself, then shakes his head in what he hopes comes off as more relaxed than he feels. 

 

“Uh….no, yeah-” he exhales, shrugging as he glances back towards the door of the shop. Nyma is nowhere in sight, which Lance forgives. Girl just got a major shock.

 

Though, then again….so did Lance.

 

“It’s okay,” he gulps as he turns back towards the guy. And then, because he considers himself to be good friend and knows Nyma will be  _ dying _ to know the whole story, pries a bit. “But can I ask  _ why _ you didn’t want to go out with that girl?”

 

“She wasn’t my type,” is the response he’s given. 

 

And  _ oh. That’s sorta offensive. _

 

Lance crosses his arms, one brow lowering as he prepares to list all the reasons Nyma would be  _ anybody's _ type, determined to know why this guy thinks he’s good enough to even  _ have _ a type in the first place.

 

“Well,” he begins, ready for an argument, “she seemed like a pretty nice girl to me. She’s in some of my classes and is really smart and funny and, well,  _ attractive-”  _ he stops himself, recalling a time when Nyma had once been someone on his list of people to date. 

 

She’s on a different list now though, and it’s hardly the time to pity himself over that. 

 

“What exactly is your type then?” He finishes, rather lamely, but he’s curious. 

 

The boy smirks, a dangerous expression on someone so handsome, and looks Lance up and down. The gaze is slow, methodical, and downright intimidating. 

 

Lance wants to be mad at him for it: wants to shout about sexualization and how uncomfortable the attention makes him.

 

But that would be a lie. All Lance feels under the dark scrutiny of those mischievous eyes is weak knees and a pounding heart. 

 

His lips are dry, and he fights the urge to lick them.

 

“You are.”

 

Lance blinks, snapping out of whatever trance the admiration had him under.

 

_ Did he just say me? As in... _ I’m _ his type? But I’m a guy! That would make him- _

 

_ Oh… _

 

_ OOOHHHH. _

 

He realizes a silence has stretched out in response to his failed comprehension, and is about to say something- _ anything- _ when the guy sighs and shakes his head, leaning forwards on the table as he reaches for his own drink.

 

“But honestly, I really _ am _ sorry for using you without your permission.” Dark eyes flicker towards Lance once again, full of hidden emotions Lance can’t grasp. “Can I buy you a coffee to make up for it?”

 

It takes a few seconds for Lance to process that question, and once he does all he can bring himself to do is raise his own cup, still steaming and virtually untouched.

 

“Uh I-uh…” he clears his throat awkwardly, devastated with himself over his incompetence with flirting. He thinks he’s going into shock. “I already ordered one.”

 

The guy lifts his brows- _ thick brows. Expressive- _ and smiles so brightly it has Lance almost wincing at the radiance. “Okay, well how about this-”

 

Hands reach up to grab the cup from Lance’s, and he watches with mouth open and heart shouting incoherently as a pen is brought to the surface. It takes him a moment to register that those are indeed numbers, or rather, a  _ number, _ as in, a  _ cellphone number,  _ as in  _ holy shit he’s giving his contact! _ that is scribbled onto his beverage, followed by a name he reads to be ‘Keith’. 

 

The guy- _ Keith _ \- hands him back his drink with a wink, fingers brushing against his almost purposefully. Knowingly. Downright  _ longingly.  _

 

And then, to seal the lid on Lance’s coffin, he goes and smacks Lance in the face with the smoothest line he’s ever been subjected to. 

 

“Just in case you ever want me to be your  _ real  _ boyfriend.”

 

Lance is so startled by the statement that all intelligent vocabulary disintegrates in his throat, leaving him drowning in air as his face warms to the point of discomfort. But Keith doesn’t seem to notice, instead turning back to his laptop and typing away as if nothing unusual just occured. 

 

As if he  _ didn’t  _ just kiss a total stranger to avoid an uncomfortable situation.

 

As if  _ kissing someone completely random is less uncomfortable than conversing with a would be suitor! _

 

As if apologizing with a hint at a future date is any way to compensate for the burning in Lance’s chest. 

 

And as if that sort of suave confidence is nothing to bat an eye at. It’s normal. Typical. Just another boring Tuesday afternoon spent at the local coffee shop writing papers for school.

 

Right. 

 

As if. 

 

Lance leaves with what he hopes is a comprehensible farewell, nearly tripping over the tables on his way out of the shop, and just barely makes it out in the cold air before being basically  _ mauled _ by Nyma.

 

“So  _ babe _ ,” she huffs, stepping back as she eyes the new decorations on Lance’s cup. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say he isn’t into chicks?”

 

Lance can’t answer. He doesn’t really need to, as Nyma’s amused giggles fill the silence well enough. He’s glad that she isn’t upset with him, though any hostility would be poorly placed to begin with. 

 

She takes his arm as they leave the coffee shop behind, chatting amiably about how shocked everyone is going to be when she retells the events of the day to their friends. 

 

At least, that’s what Lance assumes she’s saying. He isn’t really paying attention, mind drifting back to the feeling of warm hands over his, playful eyes boring deep into his soul, memorizing the numbers scribbled into his cup as a shy smile plays at his lips.

 

And speaking of, he finally allows his tongue to slip over them, recalling how tender the kiss had been. Brief, yes, but memorable. Addicting. 

 

He glances back at the café before they turn a corner, wondering why he has a sudden, seemingly insatiable craving for coffee crisp. 

He thinks maybe he’ll give that number a call.

 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://www.vulpes--vulpes@tumblr.com)


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